So the girl was possessive. It caused Fish to tense, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over her, cold and brutal. She did not like that, not at all. Freedom was already fleeting when chosen as tribute, and as the hours passed, the arena’s shadow grew bigger on the horizon. And now, she was STUCK, spending her last hours of freedom with the Capitol’s most spoiled girl (then again, concurrence was fierce around here, when it came to being spoiled rotten).
But there was nothing to be done. Fish knew better than to cause a scene -she needed sponsors. She followed Sienna to a little booth, offering her a charming little smile. She chewed on the inside of her cheeks to avoid SCREAMING of frustration. “I’d love to hear more about you,” she lied.
“A cookie?” she repeated, “oh, Sienna, that’s so sweet of you.”
sometimes being sienna brooks was living in superposition: she existed everywhere and nowhere — (1) existed on every glossy magazine, beaming with the sparkliest lip gloss in panem and (2) faded to nonexistence in her bedroom depending on the day. but when fish looked at her, sienna knew she was alive and well and curtains could be any colors they pleased, children’s hospitals should not have red floors, and sugar cookies were sugar cookies, consumer diabetic or not. tucked safely into the booth, she leaned in, nose nearly touching fish’s perfect little button nose. perfect nose. best nose, even ‼️
❛ and that’s not the only sweet thing about me! ❜ sienna ventured. the sparkles in her heart, in fish’s eyes, the sparkles dancing around them fueled her bravery. sienna was bold, reckless, yes, but, for once, the crushing insecurity was not crushing. in fact, sienna couldn’t even feel it.
❛ i’ve seen you in my dreams, honey, ❜ she admitted, in whispers directly from her heart. ❛ i’ve seen you kill them all. and there’s nothing more beautiful. you’re never more beautiful than in violence, love. tell me, have you killed before? ❜
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